


Hatefuck

by MadDogMajima



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3387839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadDogMajima/pseuds/MadDogMajima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were human beings of flesh and blood, but no one else seemed to acknowledge it. So, when the need arose, they only had each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hatefuck

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first of all: English is not my native language, I'd really appreciate if you pointed out mistakes I made or sentences you feel don't flow well.  
> This is also the first fanfic I've written in years, so I may be a bit rusty. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

_«There will be no tenderness, no tenderness._  
 _I will show no mercy for you,_  
 _you had no mercy for me.  
_ _The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly.»_

(The Bravery - Hatefuck)

 

The seventh empty bottle rolled towards the center of the table and clanked against all the other Shangri-Lager flavored excuses.  
 _We were drunk_ , the golden lie they would tell each other over and over again to run away from their responsibilities, locked in a filthy cabin somewhere far from Banapur.

Nobody had to know, of course, that the two leaders of the Golden Path were a fucking man and a fucking woman and not some sort of ethereal creatures made of ideals instead of flesh and blood. If Sabal were caught screwing a Kyrati woman, one of the many whose mothers would constantly throw at him, he’d find himself trapped in a shotgun wedding before he had the time to say “For the love of Kyra”.  
And Amita herself, _ugh_ , she wasn’t even supposed to masturbate without meeting with the contempt of the Kyrati bigotry police, let alone have sexual needs like a normal, functioning human being. All she had to do, according to them, was cry herself to sleep every night mourning the early loss of her husband to be.  
 _That pig_.

There was full moon outside, the pale light seeped through the cracks of the wooden roof and closed windows, so bright that she could almost figure out the details of the cabin interiors: the uneven, broken floor, the table, a lone chair that remembered the Kyrati royal family, the wall and its patches of mold. Amita hoped that no hunter would be out that night, chasing after snow leopards. And if they were, that they did not feel attracted to that small brick house in the middle of the forest.

But they were drunk, they were always drunk when it happened. Drunk when they locked the door and drunk when they jumped on each other with the ferocity and the eagerness of two wounded animals.  
Sabal’s teeth bit into her lower lip, but she returned the favor so promptly that she could not tell if it was his blood or her own that burned on her tongue. Her trembling fingers reached for his shirt and tore it; buttons flew in every direction, made noise, and then stopped somewhere under their feet.

“Easy, tiger.” he was mocking her “New clothes aren’t that easy to come by.”  
“Shut the fuck up” the last thing she wanted was to be reminded that there was the world out there, looming over her. Her nails dug into his shoulder, thirsty for blood. Sabal grabbed Amita’s braid and pulled, so that her neck was completely exposed.  
“You reek. When was the last time you had a proper bath?”  
“Last time you did something good for the Golden Path. That is, so long ago that I can’t remember.”  
She had a war to fight, and water was a resource best not wasted on vanity. And besides, Sabal hadn’t really the right to complain. She sniffed his neck, loudly, and smirked.  
“If, however, you ever feel like being a decent leader for once, and scout the water for any demon fish that might be around, then I’d happily follow your lead.”  
 _And then I’d equally happily watch as a whole school of them bastards rips your flesh apart and swallows your organs whole._  
Amita filled her eyes with imaginary bloodshed and her nose with nonexistant blood stench.  
She moaned in pain when Sabal bit her on the neck, kept in place by the firm hold of his fist, and sank his teeth into her strained muscle.  
His skin cracked under the pressure of her nails, Amita’s fury scattered his whole back with scratches that soon began to draw blood. She felt it under her fingertips, hot on Sabal’s usual coldness. _Tell them it was a tiger_ , she thought, _if you dare_.

Then, suddenly, Sabal’s hands were fumbling with the buttons of her pants. She helped him with a snap of her fingers, too impatient to wait for his incompetence. Oversized as they were, the pants fell on the floor in complete silence. Or, maybe, their heavy breathing was already enough to cover every noise.  
As delicate as always, Sabal moved the cloth of her underwear and entered her with two fingers. Amita bit her swollen lip.  
“You’re already wet.” he grinned.  
She grabbed his groin and looked at him in the eyes “And you’re already hard. You’ve been since the first bottle was still half full.”  
 _You’re just as vile and base as me. There’s no way around it._  
Two wild animals seeking release in the company of their natural enemy, that was what they were.

Sabal’s hands ran through her body, held her hips so tight that Amita let out a sigh of pain. He lifted her up until she was trapped between his body and the damp wall, leaving her feet dangling in the air.  
“Is the wall so interesting to look at?” Amita cupped his face in her hands “I want you to look at me while you fuck me.” she let her nails sink into his skin, while his beard tickled her fingers “Take your eyes away from me and I’ll claw them out,”  
Letting a loud moan slip, Sabal penetrated her; she did her best to conceal the slight feeling of pain. As always, it would pass soon.  
“Why, Amita?” he whispered, and then a soft chuckle sent shivers down her spine “I assumed you were pretending Ajay was in my place.”  
“Are you jealous, Sabal?” she grinned. Then that was it “Just because that boy’s got some brain and he’s agreed with me all along? Or…” the idea sparked, clear as day in her tipsy head “Would you rather have your cock inside him now? Is that what his father would have wanted, too?”  
“Don’t you dare…!”  
When the unexpected shove interrupted her loud laugh, she knew she was right. Her head bumped against the wall, dusty debris burned the eye she didn’t close on time. Sabal was pressed against her, now, leaving her not even enough room for her lungs to dilatate. He was deep inside her, her internal walls were stretched out and sore. It was then, writhing in pain but with a smile on her lips that Amita began to feel pleasure.  
Her body just knew he wasn’t at ease, that he was in pain, and rejoiced.  
Amita, still holding his face in her hands, kissed him, even though everything she gained back was a new, deeper wound on her lower lip. She moaned, and pressed her hips against him, inviting.  
“You whore” he muttered, with his face pressed against her neck. His breath tickled the scratches left by the bite.

“If I am a whore” she replied, gasping for air “then pay me and the economy of Kyrat will thank you for the first time.”  
His response was moving faster. Amita laughed. If he were a different man, and she a different woman, she may pity him. But he was Sabal, and his pain and discomfort only aroused her.

The orgasm caught her first, as always.

She curled her toes and let out a loud sigh, as the familiar, glorious feeling left room to an infinite list of much less pleasurable sensations.  
Amita remained still, waiting for him to finish. Had his moans always been so annoying? Did he always breathe so loudly? Had it always been so hot in that cabin? For the love of Kyra, why couldn’t he keep his fucking mouth shut?  
Her lips pulsed as if they’d grown a little heart of their own, her limbs seemed about to be cramping anytime. And, ew, was it a drop of his saliva that drippled down her neck?  
He came with a disgusting moan after a few, annoying minutes.  
Amita pushed his shoulders and regained contact with the floor, althought it took her a few tries before her aching legs were any good to stand, let alone walk, and she relied on the wall for support. She looked at the hot, sticky mess between her legs and gagged. They never remembered to bring a condom.  
With a scrap of his torn shirt she wiped herself and then tossed it onto the floor, at his feet.

Sabal was still in his own kind of after orgasm induced stupor when she finished buttoning up her pants “Get a hold of yourself before dawn, unless you want to ruin us both.”  
He looked at her like she was made of dirt, the usual, hate-filled Sabal look. She reciprocated with equal disdain.  
The night was over, their instincts put to sleep once again. She grabbed her knife and her gun, and got out of the suffocating cabin into the peaceful chill of the Kyrati sunrise.

 

 


End file.
